


Rhythm of the Night

by SometimesIUpdateThis



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Clubbing, Fluff, M/M, super stealth quick mention of Donut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesIUpdateThis/pseuds/SometimesIUpdateThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, I’m not going to spend my vacation doing nerdy virgin shit and let’s be real, Simmons, you’re always going to be a nerd but you don’t always have to be a virgin.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhythm of the Night

            Simmons didn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, how he got talked into it.  One moment, he and Grif were sitting in their hotel room, bored out of their minds with Grif prodding him to go to _another_ buffet and then here they were:  at the entrance to a nightclub.  Really, the night had started off innocuous enough.

            “No, Grif, we’re not going to get more food, I’m good.”

            “Yeah, no, I wasn’t talking about you, I’m still hungry.  Jesus, dude, you need to learn to relax.  Why don’t we go to a club, find you someone for the night?  That’ll loosen you up.”

            Simmons couldn’t tell if Grif was joking or being serious but the silence was long enough to pique Grif’s curiosity.

            “Wait, are you actually considering it, Simmons?”

            “What?  No… no… I just…I’ve uh…”

            “Spit it out.”

            Simmons averted his gaze, “I’ve never been to a club.”

            At this, Grif barked out a laugh.  “Really, dude?  Why am I not surprised?  We definitely have to go now.”

            Simmons tried to protest but Grif wouldn’t have any of it.

            “Look, I’m not going to spend my vacation doing nerdy virgin shit and let’s be real, Simmons, you’re always going to be a nerd but you don’t always have to be a virgin.”

            “That doesn’t even make sense!  I just haven’t had occasion okay?  School, basic training, being stuck with the same 12 people for the past 13 years, it doesn’t leave me with a lot of options!  The only girls we’ve encountered probably would’ve ripped my head off after we finishe–“

            “You’re assuming they’d even want to get it on with you.”

            “Shut up, Grif.  My point is, I ha–“

            Grif waved him off as he shuffled about the room, getting ready for what was sure to be a memorable night out.

            “Yeah, I don’t care anymore, you’re missing the point.  Hurry up and get ready.”

            With an angry huff, muttering to himself about what does it even matter, Simmons rummaged through his clothing trying to find something suitable.  When he located black slacks and a dark grey button-up that he considered a little too tight to be within satisfactory standard deviations for military regulations he figured this would be the best he could do.  Simmons was keenly aware of Grif’s eyes on him but paid it no mind, he chalked it up to the Hawaiian man not being used to seeing him out of armor all that often.  He changed clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt and attempted to adjust the buttons.  Simmons turned around to ask if the outfit was adequate and found his question died as soon as it is arose.  Grif was awfully close and Simmons wasn’t sure when he learned to move so quietly but it wasn’t as alarming as the look he wore – a smoldering gaze mixed with desire and a touch of hunger.

            “What?”

            “Nothing, just… Do you mind if I make a few adjustments?”

            Simmons nodded quietly, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion as Grif popped the top button on the collar of his shirt.  His eyes never left Grif’s though he felt the orange soldier’s hands travel lower towards where the shirt was tucked into his pants.  The maroon soldier was ready to question what exactly Grif thought he was doing but his thoughts were silenced again when he sensed wide, calloused hands loosen the material free from his pants.

            As Grif stepped away, Simmons exhaled in relief, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath to begin with.  As he raised his hand up to smooth his hair down, he was caught off-guard when Grif’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, effectively stopping the gesture mid-air.  Grif shook his head, mumbling to himself about how there was too much order and not enough chaos and again, Simmons wanted to ask what that even meant but discovered his gaze in a deadlock with Grif’s own.  It was enough to distract him from Grif’s other hand ruffling and mussing up his hair.  He blinked and he could’ve swore he felt the back of that same hand trail along his jaw ever so lightly but as soon as his eyes were open again, there was Grif standing an acceptable distance away from him beaming at his handiwork.

            “There.  Now we can go.”

            Simmons grumbled to himself, “I think I looked better before, but fine, let’s get this over with.”

            And Simmons supposes that’s how he found himself being ushered into the nightclub idly wondering if he should’ve left his glasses back in the room but the thought was as fleeting as the timing of the strobe lights.  It was loud, packed, blue, red, green lights cascading over the mass of writhing bodies with the smell of alcohol, sweat and lust clinging to every surface.  Too overwhelmed to initiate anything with any of the other patrons, he dragged Grif with him to the bar.  (Grif was pretty sure Simmons was just too virginal and shy.)

            They stood there in a comfortable silence taking in the sights and sounds as they both sipped on their respective drinks.  Every now and then they’d point out a guy trying too hard to pick up a girl and laugh amongst themselves when he’d get a drink tossed in his face.  A few drinks in him and a slight flush creeping along his freckled cheeks, Simmons nodded to himself as he topped off a brightly colored cocktail, “Alright, I admit it, this is actually really fun.”

            Grif laughed, feeling a little looser from the beers he’d imbibed himself.  “Dude, you haven’t even danced with anyone yet.”

            Simmons hummed to himself as he wrapped his fingers lightly around Grif’s wrist, tugging him along.  “We’ll dance together then, it’s not like you’ve left my side either.”

            If anyone asked Grif why he didn’t fight it, he would’ve given them the whole ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ spiel and he then would’ve promptly been decked because it’s the year 2500 and everyone knows that’s a bullshit excuse.  The truth was, he never even considered saying no, the thought never occurred to him.  It just seemed natural to follow Simmons.  They’d followed each other across the galaxy, what were a few steps onto the dance floor?

            As they nudged their way through the crowd finally finding a decent spot, he felt Simmons’ arms wrap around his broad shoulders.  Simmons was staring at him with a wry smile playing at his lips and Grif smiled hazily back at him as he encircled his own arms around the maroon soldier’s waist, pulling him in closer.  They both burst into laughter, shaking their heads.

            “This is so weird!”

            “Don’t think about it too much, Simmons, we’re just two friends enjoying each other’s company.”

            The smile never left Simmons’ mouth and he nodded along, enjoying the embrace, drinking in the moment.  The lights settled on a vivid blue, pouring over the people below.  The way the light bathed Simmons in that blue hue was mesmerizing.  It was a contrast to his flaming red hair, it softened the sharp, angular features of his face and it seemed to catch the high points of his cybernetic enhancements, making his face almost glow radiant and bright.  He was beautiful, laughing at nothing in particular, the way he tossed his head back, the way he seemed so at ease.  Years of stress had taken their toll on Simmons’ face, some wrinkles crinkling at the corner of his eye but that battle-worn hardiness made him all the more striking.  As soon as his drunken giggles had subsided and he’d seemed to settle down, Grif took the opportunity to kiss Simmons.  It was nothing dramatic, just a soft, simple press of lips.  Simmons smiled into it, he couldn’t seem to stop, and they pulled apart, Grif seemingly dejected that nothing came of it.  He started to pull away completely, started to sober up a bit realizing that yeah, he probably just fucked everything up, shit.

            Just as suddenly, he felt those same slim fingers on his wrist, the grip firmer than it was before and pulling him backwards into a lithe chest, part flesh, part metal.  Grif looked up inquisitively, parting his lips slightly, wanting to apologize and instead his excuses got lost in the sensation of Simmons’ lips on his own.  The music swelled and quickly grew to a crescendo of rigorous pulsating beats coalescing into the warmth of Simmons’ lips sliding against his and he had the faint sense that confetti was falling around them, part of his mind wondering if Donut had orchestrated this whole thing.  He had no time to ponder it further as pale hands were cupping his face, the kiss growing more fervent.  Grif felt Simmons’ tongue skimming against his bottom lip though it was soon replaced with the nip of teeth and a seemingly more determined Simmons.  Grif gasped in surprise confident that Simmons was keeping things from him, and was pleasantly rewarded with Simmons’ tongue against his own.  Tasting, teasing, soft, then firm, the kiss as eager as his hands grasping the material of Simmons’ shirt.

            They stayed joined together at the lips losing track of how many songs they’d cycled through, alternating between slow and sweet chaste kisses and frantic, enthusiastic, and sloppy full-on making out, finally breaking apart panting.  Grif stared at Simmons, taking in the sight of him ragged and gasping for breath, suffused in that same blue light, flushed and disheveled, confetti fluttering behind and around him, and shit, he was _gorgeous_.  It didn’t take long for Simmons to dissolve into a fit of giggles again as he pulled stray confetti from Grif’s hair.  He shook his head, expression full of mirth and gesturing for Grif to follow him.

            “C’mon, we gotta keep your word, I can’t always be a virgin.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is totally self-indulgent. I just really love people kissing while a bunch of confetti falls everywhere. Totally not influenced by watching New Year’s Eve celebrations or anything, no, not at all. Also heavily influenced by that one PSA of them in the Vegas quadrant. :’)


End file.
